


gradually

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Game setting, Sorey's awful poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: “Let me taste test,” Shaun more or less states, scooping up a bit of the batter on his index finger. He pops it into his mouth and his face immediately scrunches up into a grimace. “Holy hell! Kid, what did you put in there?”Mikleo’s brows furrow in confusion and he dips his own finger in to taste it. His face does the same dance as soon as the taste hits his tongue.“That’s… I guess I used salt instead of sugar,” he says, looking at the jar he had grabbed earlier. Sure enough, the label on it says ‘salt’ in Myrna’s neat writing.Shaun pats his head, messing up his hair with ease. “Happens to the best of us when we watch someone we like.”





	gradually

“Sorey!” Mikleo calls out, grabbing the boy’s attention as he runs out from the house. Myrna sighs, folding her hands as she looks out after him. Sorey, similarly, leaves Shiron in the middle of a sentence to run over to meet Mikleo midway.

Shiron catches her eyes and they smile at each other and she can just read it on his face. These kids, seriously…

Mikleo is covered head to toe with… is that vanilla powder? Shiron squints. From the smell being dragged to him by the wind, it really is.

“What what what?” Sorey asks, bounding to a stop in front of Mikleo almost like a puppy. They can all almost picture his imaginary tail wagging left and right.

“Here, taste this,” Mikleo tells him, holding out a small bowl.

“Oh! Ooh, did you make this?”

Mikleo nods, watching the other boy with a sparkle in his eyes. Sorey takes the bowl as gingerly as Mikleo had ever seen. It’s cold to the touch and he sticks his finger to scoop out some of its contents, he’s surprised to discover it’s ice cream.

His eyes go wide and he grabs the spoon to shovel a mountain of it into his mouth. Which he immediately regrets, stuck between wanting to spit out the freezing concoction and let his numbing mouth rest and not hurting Mikleo’s feelings. When the brainfreeze passes, he’s free to enjoy the vanilla flavor and creamy consistency.

“This is delicious!” he exclaims, much to Mikleo’s elation. “Is there more?”

“Well—” Mikleo looks back inside, glancing at the mess he’d left on the table and Myrna, waiting by the door. She has her arms folded, but she doesn’t really look angry. At least not yet. “Yeah, but I have to let Myrna taste it first. She’s been teaching me!”

“Oh…” Sorey sounds almost disappointed as he hands back the bowl. “You’ll make me more, won’t you? Your soft serve is great!”

Mikleo’s face flushes and he almost — oh, who is she kidding, he  _does_ — preens under Sorey’s praise. “Sure! We can have some after dinner. I have to go, though… Myrna is waiting for me.”

“Good luck!” Sorey calls after him, even as Shiron calls out to him, idly playing with a strip of leather.

Sorey can’t wait for after dinner. The vanilla flavor sticks to the inside of his mouth, a pleasant reminder that keeps him excited the whole time he listens to Shiron talking about the boars and their leather.

* * *

Mikleo’s body is taut as a bow, which is almost comical, because the bow in his grip is just as taut. His slender arm is only shaking slightly as he holds it steady, aiming the arrow at one of the targets that had been set up earlier.

The wind blows his fringe into his face, and even from this far away, Sorey can tell Mikleo frowns, blowing up at it to try and get it out. It doesn’t work, so he shifts his attention back to the target.

When he finally lets go of the arrow, his whole body visibly relaxes and the bow lowers.

Sorey disregards the arrow for a moment longer, eyes trained to Mikleo and the wide, toothy grin that spreads over his face. Warmth spreads in his chest, warmth that has nothing to do with the sun shining down or the fact that he’s covered in sweat.

Mikleo leans over to grab another arrow and Sorey finally moves his eyes to the target. He’s not very surprised to see the arrow sticking out of almost the exact middle, though no less impressed.

“—ey! Sorey!”

Sorey jolts as if he were pulled from a trance to find Ed’s hand on his shoulder. The older Seraph is looking at him with a teasing smile, narrowed eyes betraying his words before he says them.

“Well, well, you seem a little… starstruck. And the stars haven’t even come out yet!”

Sorey chuckles, blood coloring his cheeks a faint shade of red. “Oh, shut up.”

“I think what you meant to say is ‘the brightest star is already out’ and it’s not the sun.”

“Ed!”

* * *

_Thock_.

_Thock_.

With a swing of an axe that looks too heavy for Sorey’s arms to lift, but which is nevertheless lifted with ease, another log breaks in two, falling off the stump. Sorey sets up another one and raises the tool, bringing it down with a small grunt.

Mikleo’s hands stop stirring the heavy cream as he watches, head lolling to the side a little as he peers at the brunet, trying to see him better. The distance between them is not to scoff at, but even so, Mikleo can see sweat beading on Sorey’s sun-kissed skin. He had long since shed his shirt and now it sits in a heap by the pile of chopped logs.

The droplets of sweat roll down his arms and chest, running over the defined muscles on his stomach, disappearing at the hemline of his pants, only to be replaced by new ones as Sorey keeps at his task.

He stops only to wipe the sweat from his forehead or to drink from the pitcher of water he had brought. The sun beats down mercilessly and he’s not spared as there is no breeze to ease the temperature.

Mikleo reaches over to grab the jar of sugar and pour five spoons into the batter, hands stirring the mixture on autopilot. His eyes don’t leave Sorey ah he drops the axe and leans down to grab the pitcher from the shade of a rock.

He seems to change his mind and just drops to the grass instead, raising the glass to his mouth and gulping down large mouthfuls of the liquid. His Addam’s apple bobs with each swallow and Mikleo swallows as well, muscles tense all of a sudden.

Mikleo pours the heavy cream into the batter, folding it in with practiced movements.

Sorey is now leaning backwards against the rock, still holding the pitcher. Instead of putting it back down, he raises it higher and pours the contents all over himself. His hair, already droopy with sweat, now flattens completely, dripping the water down. It makes his skin shine like a gem and Mikleo can’t pull his eyes away.

Sun reflects off the patch of it on Sorey’s stomach, moves with each inhale and exhale.

He looks inhumane as he sits there, enjoying the moment’s reprieve.

_Ethereal_.

Mikleo finally looks away as Sorey hops up, stretching his arms over his head before grabbing the axe and getting back to work. Mikleo decides the same.

Shaun enters just a heartbeat later and Mikleo can’t believe how glad he is that he hadn’t been caught ogling. “Oh, you cooking again?” he asks when he notices Mikleo and — mostly — the bowl in his hands.

“Baking,” Mikleo corrects, “This’ll be a cake.”

“Let me taste test,” Shaun more or less states, scooping up a bit of the batter on his index finger. He pops it into his mouth and his face immediately scrunches up into a grimace. “Holy hell! Kid, what did you put in there?”

Mikleo’s brows furrow in confusion and he dips his own finger in to taste it. His face does the same dance as soon as the taste hits his tongue.

“That’s… I guess I used salt instead of sugar,” he says, looking at the jar he had grabbed earlier. Sure enough, the label on it says ‘salt’ in Myrna’s neat writing.

Shaun pats his head, messing up his hair with ease. “Happens to the best of us when we watch someone we like.”

Mikleo’s ears turn red. “What?!”

Shaun just chuckles and ducks out of the house before either of them could say anything else.

* * *

“Hey… Natalie? Mason?”

Natalie turns from Mason to look down at Sorey, who seemingly pops out of nowhere, looking nervous. “What’s wrong, Sorey?”

“Nothing! I just…” The human blushes and looks away from them, hesitating. She gently kicks Mason’s shin as an instruction to shut up when he opens his mouth. “How should I tell someone that… that I like them?”

Both the Seraphim pause, only serving to make Sorey appear more flustered. “Do you have someone you like, Sorey?” Mason asks finally, switching into kid voice. At least that’s what Natalie has dubbed it in her mind, since he only uses it to talk to the kids.

“Maybe…” Sorey mumbles, looking to the side. Following that line of sight, Natalie can spot Mikleo carrying treated leathers. Ah.

“Well, Sorey,” she says, a smile finding its way onto her face. How could they have even considered another option? There simply isn’t one; Sorey and Mikleo were made for each other. “What do they like? What does Mikleo like?”

“That’s— I never said it’s Mikleo!” Sorey sputters out immediately, then glances backwards to see whether anyone heard them. Mikleo disappears inside, undisturbed, and Sorey sighs. He turns an accusatory glance towards Natalie. “Not so loud!”

She laughs, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Sorry, sorry. But really, you should give him something, and just tell him how you feel.”

“Try making him something,” Mason pipes in, “It means more if you make it.”

“Something Mikleo likes… He likes reading, I guess… We always read together, mostly the Celestial record. What if I wrote him a book?”

“A whole book is a little…”

“How about a poem?”

Sorey mulls the idea over, probably trying to think of some he had read and could get inspiration from. “Are you sure he’d like that?”

Mason shrugs. “Who doesn’t like poetry?”

Natalie fights the urge to roll her eyes. “I have a book of really nice poems, I could lend it to you. Maybe you can find some nice words in there.”

“Thanks, Natalie! I’ll write Mikleo the best poem ever! No, two of them! No, three!”

Natalie and Mason both chuckle, watching fondly as Sorey runs back home, muttering about paper and ink. They turn back to each other and smile, the corners of their lips lifting up slightly in the way that only the boys can make them do.

“You think Mikleo will like a poem?” Mason asks, as if he wasn’t sure anymore.

“I think he’ll like anything from Sorey. You know him.”

* * *

“Well, go on,” Natalie says, ducking behind a house as Sorey insists.

Sorey nods, steeling himself and clutching the papers to his chest. He rearranges them for the hundredth time, and then finally walks out when Natalie pushes him.

Mikleo is by the stream, twirling the water into tendrils and smashing them against the surface. He stops when he hears Sorey approaching and turns to him, wiping the sweat from his brow. “What’s up?” he asks, placing his hands onto his hips.

“Well, I— I uh…” Sorey stammers, gripping the papers tightly. All his resolve had suddenly vanished, even when he looks at Natalie, who gives him a thumbs up, trying her best to be encouraging.

Mikleo looks at him funny, but does wait for Sorey to say whatever it is he wants to say.

“I just… I wrote something for you, and— You know what, I’ll just read it,” Sorey decides, taking a deep breath and looking down at the papers.

“ _Roses are red,_  
violets are blue,  
they’re not really  
but blue is pretty  
just like you.”

Mikleo chuckles, shooting a hand up to his mouth to silence himself. Sorey can feel blood rushing up to his cheeks, but he keeps going.

“ _I tried writing you a rhyme,_  
what what rhymes with rhyme?  
I guess thume?  
Thyme thyme thyme.”

Mikleo’s chuckles burst into full laughter, but still he does his best to contain himself.

“ _Roses are purple,_  
violets are purple,  
everything is purple  
because I got lost in your eyes.”

“Now that’s what I call poetry,” Mikleo jabs.

“ _Roses are white sometimes,_  
Seraphim are invisible,  
but my affection for you  
are as visible as ever.”

Sorey feels out of breath when he finishes and hesitates to look up and see Mikleo’s reaction. Eventually he does, only to find Mikleo still holding back chuckles. One hand stamped over his mouth and shoulders shaking with the effort.

He can feel his cheeks heating up further and the urge to tear the poems up into a million shreds.

“You suck at poetry,” Mikleo declares when he finally calms down.

Sorey forces out a chuckle nervously, posture drooping. “I guess, sorry. I just—”

“I like them,” the Seraphim cuts him off with a smile. Sorey blinks at him; looking closer, he can spot the faint redness in Mikleo’s otherwise pale cheeks. “Can I keep them?”

Mikleo waits, and it takes Sorey a long moment to realize he’s talking about the scribbled, scratched-out pieces of paper. He’s almost embarrassed to hand them over, but Mikleo’s smile and Natalie cheering him on from the sidelines makes him do it.

Mikleo takes them from Sorey’s outstretched hand, looking down at them with fondness in his eyes.

“Thank you, Sorey,” he says, “I really love them.”

He leaves Sorey standing there stumped as he goes home with the poems, humming under his breath. When the door to his house closes, Sorey runs back to Natalie.

He looks helpless and confused and waits for her to say something. She gives him a smile and places a hand onto his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you,” she tells him.

“I— he didn’t say anything!” Sorey looks — and sounds — confused.

“But he looked happy! You should give him some time to think about it. He’ll give you an answer eventually.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

“It’s okay. Now, how about some dinner? It’s getting late.”

* * *

The sky seems much more calm today, after the long storms have passed. Blue blanket spreads above Elysia, not a cloud in sight. Gentle breeze flutters with Natalie’s robe as she stops to take in the beautiful day.

“Natalie, Natalie!”

Ah yes, the peaceful sound of birds, rustling grass and someone calling for her.

She turns to regard Mikleo, who’s running up to her. “What’s wrong, Mikleo?” she asks, furrowing her brows.

“Its Sorey! He wrote me poems and he— they said he likes me and I don’t know what to do!”

Natalie’s worried look dissolves into a soft smile and she shakes her head. “Well? Why don’t you just tell him how you feel in return? Do you like him?”

Mikleo seems to take offense to her words, crossing his arms almost defensively. “Of course I do! I just don’t know what to give him in return! I thought you might have an idea.”

“Oh, deary me… You don’t have to give him anything, you know? I don’t think Sorey even wants anything in return.”

Mikleo’s lips upturn into a frown and he huffs. “Well, if you won’t help me, I’ll think of something myself.”

Natalie sighs as she looks after him, storming off back to the stream and stomping as much as his fake anger lets him. She shakes her head again. She has a feeling today might not be as peaceful as it appears.

* * *

“Natalieeeeeee!”

Natalie perks up at the sound of Sorey’s voice; the boy runs up to her house, standing before her while she sits on the doorstep with a cup of tea. There’s an almost impossibly wide smile on his face, stretching from ear to ear.

“You won’t guess what happened!” he exclaims, jumping on the balls of his heels.

“Guess I won’t! But it sounds good, so why don’t you tell me?” Natalie pats the wood besides her, scooting to the side to make room for Sorey as he flops down, folding his legs to stop them from bouncing with excitement. It doesn’t work, his knees still jump a little.

She finishes her tea, trying her best not to choke on the loose leafs. Then she turns her full attention to the human, eager to know what had transpired.

“It’s Mikleo, he came to me this morning when everyone was asleep and he took me to the stream and he used twin flow but it wasn’t an attack the water just went swoosh swoosh in the air and it wrote out ‘I like you too’ in thin air and he was blushing so much and I gave him the biggest hug and I didn’t know what to really do but he pulled away and grabbed my head and he kissed me, Nataliehekissedmeohmygod!”

Natalie has to take a moment to process everything Sorey had just, quite literally, dumped on her. And he looks like he needs a minute to catch his breath. His grin shows no signs of leaving anytime soon, and soon enough, she finds herself mirroring it.

“That’s wonderful!” she tells him, pulling him into a hug herself.

* * *

“They look so happy together. So much that they miss out on work.”

Zenrus takes another drag from his pipe, puffing out the smoke with a slow stream. Kyme nurses a cup of tea, sat cross legged in front of him and staring at the leafs with disinterest, though with a smile.

“Let them enjoy the peace for now,” Zenrus says finally, taking another drag. “You know the world doesn’t allow much of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was a commissioned fic


End file.
